


In a World Where We Endlessly Begin

by vwmn



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22294180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwmn/pseuds/vwmn
Summary: Taeyong comes back from a trip to find Doyoung sleeping in his room. The moonlight is so very gorgeous, Taeyong feels a little delirious.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 149





	In a World Where We Endlessly Begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For Olive, my dear friend.
> 
> I start this document off by saying it is currently late December, I don’t feel concerned with how long this will take, (January edit: while walking down the street today I decided that my other wips are not necessarily to be finished, but this one, since its purpose is to be perceived by someone, is. So I came home and finished it today. Mid January update: I didn't finish it that day.) and I also don’t feel particularly ambitious about accomplishing something that is long winded, though that doesn’t mean this doesn’t contain the same magnitude of purpose and intention.  
> I’ve given it some thought: what do I think Olive would want to read? How do I make it into my own? What interpretation of characters do I use? Would she like those interpretations?  
> Once again, I had to stop myself with: “It doesn’t matter if Donghyuck because loves Renjun because Renjun loves Donghyuck.”  
> (End late December notes)  
> It is now early January, I’m not sure how long this project is going to take, because I realize I write while waiting for inspiration to strike. I listen to the different paths that I think I can take, but I’m not often happy with what I produce when I do that (like my Jeno/Doyoungie fic). I’m much happier with what I produce when I can see the images of what I want as if I were meant to construct it!  
> I know it’s going to be something along the lines of domestic DoTae. I’m not completely putting off other ideas (maybe KunYang? I’m personally not convinced of their dynamics to be particularly relevant to myself…)  
> (Knowing that you did MarkHyuck makes me the thinking clown emoji.)  
> And I think DoHyuck might be too early.  
> Wouldn’t it be lovely to kick off the year with some DoTae taking care of plants together?  
> This is relevant because I started the year with the lyrics “It's fantasy, though it may sometimes get cold and though I can't see everything in this world/I still plan to walk in the direction of my beliefs above all else/It's destiny, no matter what kind of place I'm in/ because there's only one sky that wraps around me/I'm going to spread my wings and take flight"  
> Something odd about this is if this were not a present for you, I would ask for your opinion on it, but since it is, I feel oddly alone in this piece. Not that I don’t write things that I don’t discuss, but I feel like this is very relevant to you, somehow, that I want you to know about this. Isn’t it amazing, that people find other people that they want to learn about? They want to be known by these people?  
> I want this to be presented while it is still relevant, however long of a timeline that may be. Happy new year regardless, a celebration to something lovely I’ve picked up in 2019, the current best year of my life. I’ve got nothing but a solid sense of direction in my mind, and a strong hold in my heart, that it will only get better and better. How will I be capable of holding so much goodness, I don’t know, but I will be able to do it, that much I’m sure. You are very much a part of this process, and very much a part of my world.
> 
> I thought it would be extremely difficult writing something for somebody, writing something with someone in mind. It wasn't difficult at all, maybe because it's you, I felt at ease to produce something that was honest to me. Hopefully this will be honest to you too. Thank you for being here until now. I've no doubts that every second we spend together from now on will become something precious to me just as every second we've spent together until now has been precious to me.
> 
> (Mid January update) It always feels like there is more to do. But I decided that this is enough. I hope it is enough.
> 
> To you, who is such a lovely part of living.
> 
> -B

It’s nearing 3:30AM, _6:00PM in L.A.,_ Taeyong calculates in his head. Mark is on his phone, eyebrows knitted tight in concentration. The last text Taeyong had sent was to Johnny, informing him they had landed, to which he received no reply. His manager is asleep in the front seat, and one of their stylists is fumbling with her phone in the back, everyone is perhaps used to the atmosphere on the plane, consumed and insentient. He has the distinct urge to create something, suddenly, inspiration bleeding on the dot of the pen but no media to be found. So he lies back, looks out the window and up at the moon, its glorious light, and tries his best to relax after the absurdity of a 12 hour plane ride.

Despite it being early evening in L.A., Taeyong finds his muscles aching as he drags himself out of the warmth of the car to help with the luggage, bleary eyed and cotton mouthed. It’s like days have been lost in this process of transportation, some of his members have gotten used to it, like Yuta, enraptured in his love for movies. Taeyong hasn’t been able to find the same success – fatigue is poisonous. Being someone who already sleeps at odd hours, it can be difficult to find comfort in a place like a plane, it can be difficult to find comfort when his physical body aches for relief.

Mark lazily waves a goodbye at Taeyong when they reach his floor, eyebags dark, leaving only Taeyong in the elevator, alone. Odd. The night is odd. The elevator lights are too bright at night. Every little movement blends in with the cacophony of white noise that is threatening to spill from the metal box. When the elevator opens, Taeyong jumps at Donghyuck’s figure, embraced by nothing but the overflow of elevator lights.

“Hyung, you’re back!”

“You’re still up?”

He’s wearing some striped shorts and a white T-shirt. No socks. Underarmour slippers. Very ratty. “Was up pretty late playing games, gonna go to bed soon.”

They hug, as one would in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep. “Nights hyung.” He says when they part, and presses open the elevator with a tired smile.

Taeyong passes Donghyuck and Johnny’s room to his own, he looks at the closed door of Doyoung and the manager’s room, it would be nice to see Doyoung, but he would have to save it for tomorrow. Doyoung had texted him a few hours before his flight, said that he was getting some rice cakes with the other members. He checks his phone again, and sends off a quick “I’m back <3”, wouldn’t that be nice to wake up to?

His little luggage is not very heavy, and the wheels are very quiet, but Taeyong lifts it the whole way back to his room anyway, the last bit of work his muscles will have to endure before he slumps (hopefully) into unconsciousness, if his body is willing to cooperate. His keys clatter incessantly as he grapples with the lock, to find that it is already open. There aren’t many people who has the key to Taeyong’s room. The manager, of course. Doyoung, to water his plants while he’s away. Taeyong doesn’t think much of it, breath held with the giddiness of a mystery as he pushes the door open with his free hand, and in his haste, bumps the edge of his luggage onto the door frame. All the muscles in Taeyong’s body stiffen in response.

A figure on his bed stirs, and opens his eyes.

Taeyong steps inside and locks the door behind him before whispering loudly, “Doie?”

“You’re back,” Doyoung mumbles, one eye cracked open, barely a slit. His voice is soft and hoarse with sleep, he must’ve been asleep for a while.

It’s not a question in need of an answer, but even questions like that are allowed to be asked. Perhaps disguised as something else, but the intention lies obvious. “What are you doing in my room?”

Taeyong busies himself with settling the luggage case on the ground and unzipping it for his travel makeup bag, which has barely left the suitcase since SuperM promotions began. His toner needs to be refilled, foundation has run out, cotton pad supply pitifully low. He then takes out jeans and t-shirts that need to be washed and throws them into his laundry basket in the closet. It’s nice to be able to do that. Mark once admitted that he didn’t wash his pajamas for three months straight because he never unpacked them. The nightmare. In the back of his mind, he wonders if Doyoung is coming up with an answer, and decides that perhaps the answer can be saved for another time. A more convenient one.

“I just wanted to be alone for a while.” It comes though, not in any form that Taeyong expected, or knew existed, but it comes.

“Should I leave then?” He asks with a smile.

“No, no, c’mere.” Doyoung sits up a little, stands Taeyong’s pillow against the headboard, and starts to doze off again, head slumping to the side against the pillow. Just as Taeyong is about to conclude he has fallen asleep, he blinks, widely, as if trying very hard to convince himself otherwise. His neck is very smooth.

“I was thinking about something you said before you left.”

Taeyong gingerly sits at the edge of his bed, he suddenly feels awfully uncomfortable. The inside of his jeans is scratchy, even the soft cotton of his hoodie around his neck feels suffocating. It’s strange how the body adjusts like that, like the higher executive functions of his cognition has decided it’s time for a break, he is safe now.

“Yeah?”

It takes Doyoung a solid five more seconds before he opens his eyes again, this time with more recognition and secrets reserved for times like this.

“How was the journey? Are you tired?”

“I feel kinda crazy. Feels kinda like a dream.”

Doyoung smiles at him, lips closed. “Congratulations. You’ve been amazing.”

“Thanks. It’s been such a month. I can’t even think. I don’t even want to think.”

Doyoung’s still smiling, he’s blinking slowly. “You don’t have to right now, do that tomorrow.”

Taeyong laughs at that, bunches his hands at the jeans on his knees, tight against his skin, overdue for a change. Maybe he smells like the plane, like sweat and dandruff. It would be awfully nice to take a nice shower. “It doesn’t work like that, if I feel it, I can’t just _stop_ myself.”

It vaguely occurs to Taeyong that nearing 4AM is not a time that Doyoung likes to be awake. In fact, he is never awake at this time, unless there is something truly of utmost importance happening, or if he were in a different time zone. The thought registers and regurgitates and slips together with the rest of his thoughts, and just like every other shade Taeyong has stored for times better than this, it blends together into that muddy brown. Taeyong can pick that thought back up when it’s important again, whenever that might be.

“It’d be good to be able to just _stop_. It’s a skill. It’s something to be learnt.” Doyoung’s leaning far against the top of the pillow, so his voice comes out strained and sleep laced. It’s very endearing, Taeyong thinks. It’s not a voice he gets to listen to often. Doyoung’s voice often has a clear, strong quality to it, even when it’s soft. This sounds raw, Doyoung’s words, for once a little clumsy, a little disoriented, very lovely.

“You think? I think it’d be nice to just follow my heart.” Taeyong waits for Doyoung, who has closed his eyes again.

“Not this again,” he moans, “not right now, not tonight. I’m _so_ tired.”

Taeyong chuckles and walks to his closet to grab a change of clothes, “I’m going to go shower. Just go to bed Doie. Nighties.”

“Okay,” Doyoung mumbles, but cracks open an eyelid when Taeyong tries to turn his lamp off, “leave it on. You’re coming back right?”

“Duh, it’s my room,” Taeyong reassures him before slipping through the door to head for his sweet, sweet shower.

Sometimes Taeyong still rooms with Doyoung, in hotels, during schedules, various countries. Rarely for more than a few days in a row and it is of course different when Doyoung views the space they share as inherently his instead of a guest in Taeyong’s space. It’s a time he misses sometimes, but he also deeply appreciates their current set up.

Times like these, when Doyoung is relaxing in Taeyong’s room, is when Taeyong thinks about the discussions he’s had with Doyoung. As if his body and mind are both more attuned to Doyoung’s personality. What Doyoung thinks about people singing in the shower, for example. Taeyong’s personally never minded, but Doyoung’s complained about it in the past when he roomed with Mark. About the mess in the room. About Mark’s habit of leaving old takeout containers in his corner of the room. Taeyong wonders if Doyoung still feels that way, or if he’s become more encompassing of the habits of others. But what it means is that Taeyong will sing in the shower and forget about Doyoung’s little spiel, and come out wondering if Doyoung has minded. If it would matter to bring it up. He takes care not to today, because the bathroom is by the living room and Doyoung’s room, where the manager is probably sleeping.

He thinks sometimes that they are perhaps too close for it to matter. Doyoung knows so much about Taeyong, more than anybody else in the group. Surely, Doyoung would understand Taeyong’s intentions, surely, it wouldn’t be a problem? So they talk, and Taeyong is surprised every time that there is always more to learn about each other, because they’re always changing. In ways that can be undetectable even as they share their lives together, so intangibly. New revelations Doyoung has reached as he traces seeds that have been sown over the years. The truth is that no matter how well they know each other, Doyoung cannot read Taeyong’s mind, even if Taeyong forgets that sometimes.

He thinks about all this as he showers, and as he blow-dries his hair, wishes he never thought about it at all, it certainly doesn’t help with drowsiness, because now he wants to shake Doyoung awake and ask him about his day.

His muscles ache as he walks back from the bathroom. He feels the perspiration evaporate from the surface of his skin, relaxing for the first time all day. And when he opens the door to his room, dim lights from the lamp casting faint shadows over his possession, he remembers that this is safety, the weight in his bones.

Doyoung looks up at him, awake and on his phone now. He walks over to his ‘dressing table’ and sets down his hairdryer. It’s just tall enough for him to look himself in the eye while standing, which were not his intentions while installing this mirror with Johnny. They had clearly set it too high, but neither one of them had noticed until Doyoung walked by and asked, “That’s pretty high isn’t it?”

His polaroids stare back at him from above the mirror and under the air conditioning. This was a bad idea too. He had put them up before he needed to use the air conditioning, on strings at first, clipped by clothespins, very cute. Until one hot day when he had to turn on the air conditioning and they majestically blew off the clothespins, string and everything, everywhere. When he gathered them back up and stuck them securely to the wall, he realized that he had missed a few. They’re somewhere in the room now, and he likes to think that they are being shy. They’ll reunite eventually. And if they don’t, that’s okay too.

Taeyong walks to his bed to finally sit beside Doyoung, who’s still scanning his phone, but Taeyong knows he has been waited for, considered.

And – _crunch_. Taeyong looks down just as Doyoung looks up

“My snacks…” Doyoung whispers, heart broken.

“They’re still edible,” Taeyong offers, and by demonstration, picks the bag of nuts and seaweed crackers off the floor and throws a few into his mouth.

“You shouldn’t eat this late at night.”

“Why did you bring them then?” Taeyong sits beside Doyoung, who scooches over to make room.

“For tomorrow actually. I was hoping we could spend the day in.”

Taeyong pulls the covers over himself too, Doyoung is staring at him now, phone dangling uselessly in his left hand, locked. “Thanks for waiting for me, you really didn’t have to.” As if a peace offering, he tilts the open side of the bag of seaweed crackers to Doyoung, who picks out a few surviving whole pieces.

“I was worried about you. I thought maybe there was something I could do.” Doyoung’s words are careful and measured, Taeyong’s missed them. There was a time during the promotions when he had wanted nothing but to talk to Doyoung, when things from the past had come to collect interest from him, as he thought they might. No amount of preparation can stop the feelings though, feelings that he thoroughly had to dissect, had to acknowledge, understand, and resolve. Doyoung wasn’t there. Taeyong still did it.

The ache in his upper back is demanding attention, and so is his sore backside. As if gravity is working against him, pulling his vertebrae together, scraping against each other. Taeyong sinks deep into his bed, until he is lying almost prone. Doyoung is still looking down at him, expectantly.

“You did a lot for me. I felt like I could always find you, even if you weren’t there.”

“It must’ve been hard, the last time we called it sounded like you were having a hard time.”

“Yeah. I knew I would be okay though. And Mark was there. Ten was there. Taemin hyung helped so much.” He notices a loose thread at the end of Doyoung’s long sleeved shirt, and picks at it.

“Taemin hyung huh?”

It floods back to him, the little things Taemin had said. They didn’t need to understand each other in order for Taemin to be kind. Taeyong searches for the words to summarize what exactly it was that Taemin did. They glisten and lick at the edge of his consciousness, not quite yet accessible. “I don’t know how to describe it right now. But I knew I was going to be fine. I have you. I have my family. I have people I don’t want to disappoint. And I have me.”

“You’ve worked hard.” It is incredibly quiet in Taeyong’s room, he can hear himself breathing, and hear Doyoung breathing too. They’re not quite in sync, Doyoung’s a little slower and deeper. Taeyong thinks about a response, what he might say to that statement. It’s true, he did work hard. He’s had to say it so many times to the crew, to his members, he’s said it to his family and to the fans. He’s said it so many times it feels false on his tongue. He’s starting to question what that statement quite means, if saying “you’ve worked hard” is enough to cover all the sentiments he has felt, if “you’ve worked hard” justifies Baekhyun flying between three different countries in the span of two and a half days.

He’s broken from his thoughts when in the silence of the room, they hear the front door of their dorm open. Taeyong’s eyes find Doyoung’s, who seems equally surprised. After a few moments, it closes not with the usual slam customary with such a heavy door, but a soft measured _click_ and the subsequent locking of the door.

“Must be Haechan,” Doyoung says, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Why are you whispering? Are you afraid of him hearing you?” Taeyong’s whispering too now, his bed is comforting, his blanket is soft, but best of all, his skin is free.

“Defaulted. He’s already trying so hard to be quiet okay? I’m going to validate him!”

Taeyong laughs, a short, harsh release of breath, punched out of him. “I texted him last week asking him to buy me a hat that’s gone on sale but he never replied, and then had the audacity to call me right before the performance to tell me good luck.”

“Donghyuck is considerate, isn’t he? Did he buy you the hat though?”

“I asked him when he called but he said he totally forgot.”

Doyoung pouts thoughtfully, “Then what’s that?” He points to Taeyong’s desk.

On the desk, is a square-ish shopping bag with a logo that Taeyong is very familiar with. Now that Doyoung has pointed it out, it’s so jarring against the rest of the room that it seems strange that Taeyong hadn’t noticed it. “I haven’t noticed it,” he says dumbly.

“He asked me to put it on your desk for you when I come in to water your damn plants that won’t live.”

“I just have to resign to my fate if you decide to kill my plants.”

“It’s not a _decision_. I’m trying so hard to mother them but they have no willpower to live. They were meant to be ruled out by natural selection.”

Taeyong laughs, and Doyoung does too, almost in sync.

“Are we gonna sleep now? My eyes are really starting to hurt.” Doyoung squishes his eyes closed before opening them again to a squint. “Ah… they hurt.”

“Remember when you had to do your relay cam?” Taeyong laughs, he hasn’t watched the video, he’s not quite sure if it has been released yet, but he remembers how Doyoung had slept in the next day, how Taeyong had been bombarded with texts of complaints the next day.

Doyoung slides down too, they’re a good distance away. Close enough to whisper to, far enough to have their own space. “Ugh. I still wonder if I should’ve just slept through an hour of it.”

“You could’ve. I did.” Taeyong unwillingly props himself up on his elbows to reach for his bedside lamp, it extinguished without complaint. Taeyong’s room is never completely dark though, that is simply what happens with living in big cities. Light pollution pours from every corner his curtains cannot shield him from. It’s nice, with Doyoung here, because he can turn and make out the outline of Doyoung’s hair, his cheeks, his nose.

“Yeah but you also had a three hour session. Mine was only two hours.” As Taeyong’s eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, he begins to make out Doyoung’s eyes, blinking in the dark, and his lips, voice not quite soft enough to be a whisper.

“Johnny offered to switch with you didn’t he? Because you had a schedule for the first hour that you filmed.”

“To be honest, it felt easier, filming myself while I was supposed to be on camera, and while I was in public. Or I don’t know, in public enough. I see now why so many of them chose to film with someone else, or go somewhere.”

“Do you wish you did it differently?” Taeyong knows the answer before Doyoung says it, lets himself feel the pride for a second, and then berates himself for assuming.

“No. I had a goal and I pursued it. I’m pretty happy with it, even if there are things I wish I could’ve done better.”

Sleep slips in and settles behind Taeyong’s eyelids, but he’s missed his best friend. “Like what?”

“Like not doing it at 4AM.”

“How did we decide the times again?” Taeyong’s voice is taking effort to hold shape, he struggles to make out the most important thing.

Doyoung’s silent for a moment. “Don’t remember. I know we all wrote it on a white board. Something like that. Did we play some game probably?”

Taeyong mind wanders and searches, vaguely, he thinks of some pieces of paper, Doyoung kneeling in front of a white board. “Ah, paper?”

“Right!” Doyoung exclaims, “We were told to have everyone write their choices down, and then we volunteered to change our times. And then we played some games. I lost against Johnny.” Doyoung thinks for a moment, and then adds: “Johnny should’ve taken the 4AM. Would’ve made sense since he was going to stay up with Donghyuck anyway. Damn.”

“Johnny? He probably wanted to do something with Jay.”

Doyoung hums contently. He turns to face away from Taeyong, the bed shivers under his movement. “Let’s sleep. Good night.”

“Wait. I have a question,” Taeyong watches Doyoung shift again to turn his body, as if shifting his head would help him hear better in the quiet room. As if that makes a difference. “Do you think… it’s the moonlight that’s important, or the companionship of the moon?”

Doyoung turns more of his body, “What are you talking about?”

“Like when people talk about walking back home with the moonlight as company, are they really talking about the moonlight? Does the moonlight actually make a difference? Or are they talking about the moon?”

Doyoung raises a hand to draw a circle in the dark. “The moonlight probably? The idea probably originated back when streetlights weren’t a thing, and moonlight did make a difference back then.”

“No no no,” Taeyong clicks his tongue, “not literally.”

Doyoung’s hand drops back down. “What are you talking about? You asked me a literal question and I’m giving you a literal answer.”

Taeyong laughs, he seeks out Doyoung in the dark and pats his arm, he can almost see Doyoung’s scrutiny. “Forget it. Let’s go to bed? I’m kind of delirious.”

There’s a short hum from Doyoung, before the room is quiet. A car drives by outside, a wave of the ocean.

“We’re going to stay in tomorrow right?”

Doyoung hums, halfway towards the land of dreams.

“Can we make some bibimbap together?”

Doyoung hums again, same intonation.

Somehow, that is enough. Here they are, together.

Taeyong falls asleep on that thought.

**Author's Note:**

> With Love,


End file.
